


And the Show Must Go On

by orphan_account



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Characters will appear as they do but not right off the start, Gen, tags may be added?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stage Manager Pearl wrangles a rather large and unruly production crew for the school musical. As can be expected, many theatre-related shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So It Begins

The curtains swung open with only a little hesitation, and the show went on.

This, however, was after a long ten weeks of trouble.

It all started when my drama teacher approached me after class.

“Excuse me, Pearl; could you stay after this class for a bit? I have something I need to ask you,” Ms. Universe said. I nodded without hesitation.

As I sat through the rest of class (Play Production, mostly filled with people who needed their singular ‘fine arts’ credit) I eagerly awaited whatever she wanted to talk to me about. Extra credit opportunities? A much needed leadership position for Honors Society? Extracurricular activities? 

It turned out to be all of the above, and so much more.

As she filled out a late pass for me, she finally filled me in on the details. “You know how we’re doing a production of Into the Woods, correct? Well, while we have a full cast of actors, we’re lacking in the production crew. Would you be interested in filling the position of Stage Manager? I’m sure it’s nothing you couldn’t handle.”

I nodded again without any hesitation. Stage management was sure to look good anywhere I needed leadership positions, and was surely something I could handle.

“Your responsibilities would include managing actors, handling paperwork, and recruiting a few members for the production crew.”  
“What specifically does a few members mean?”

She laughed, and I got a sinking feeling. “Well, a few members is a bit of an understatement. To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve asked. But I’m absolutely certain you could handle it, Pearl.”

I nodded again, with only slight hesitation. If she was certain I could handle it, I probably could.

“Good, good. I have a list of the positions I need, though you might need to look a bit farther than this class.”

I took the list, thanked her, and headed off to my fourth period (AP Literature). As I looked over the list, my worry increased. There were nine positions unfilled, and I only had a few ideas of who could go where.

Unfortunately, I was pondering this at the exact same time my teacher decided to ask me a question, so I ended up stuttering in a very elegant and appealing manner.

“The answer to the question could either be dramatic irony or foreshadowing, depending on whose viewpoint you’re choosing,” someone spoke up.

I glanced over to see who had upstaged me. Unsurprisingly, it was Peridot Olivine. Extremely gifted and talented (and cynical and jaded) sophomore, who I was almost certain existed specifically to outshine me in every way possible. She was good at simply everything that had ever existed, and a horrible teacher’s pet.

After another hour of AP Lit, I was free to go to the rehearsal for our dance recital. This was a rather significant recital, as the entire dance program was involved. Entire dance program, unfortunately including one particular loud annoying sophomore, Amethyst Universe. She never learned how to play nice, keep her hands to herself, or sit quietly (inappropriate kindergarten education, I’m assuming). But of course she was…talented, I guess you could say. If you were into that kind of dancing (which I’m hesitant to even call dancing). I’m going to go with the cliché ‘she marches to the beat of her own drum’. Except her drum is more like thirty three screaming frogs. And the beat isn’t real. And there’s no marching involved. To sum it up, she does whatever she pleases.

The dance rehearsal was…something. I went on stage with my ever-so-carefully planned routine, was interrupted by Amethyst shrieking something halfway through, and almost broke my ankle. There was a mysterious giggling from the catwalks, which wasn’t good, considering they should have been empty. At one point, a wrench fell from the ceiling along with an all-too-familiar voice of that stuck-up sophomore using language I’d never expect from her.

“Fuck! I didn’t tether my wrench and now someone’s probably dead. What can you do?” she said, somewhere in between sarcastic and genuinely concerned.

I sighed. What on earth had she been doing up there, and with an untethered wrench no less? Wrenches were for adjusting lights, and our lights were already in recital positions.

By the end of the rehearsal, I was exhausted and very worried about falling lights, but no closer to any ideas on who could perform what production crew roles. 

Right up until I saw one of the freshmen (Lapis Lazuli, dance and visual arts student from what I remember) playing around. It was a quick game some of the less mature dancers tended to play, similar to theatre improvisation games. It was generally called Improv Dancing, or simply ‘Stop Messing Around You’re Going To Get Hurt’. It usually involved a lot of jerky transitions from one style of dancing to another, but Lapis was able to do everything with a certain fluidity. She would go from waltzing to box-stepping with no trouble, and then turn around to mess with whatever Amethyst did was called, and without a second’s hesitation into ballet. It was impressive, and I knew I had found my dance captain. 

The only issue was, would she comply?

I was about to find out.

Approaching her was a challenge, as she was constantly switching partners. I eventually managed to pin her down after swinging her away from Amethyst.

“Excuse me, Lapis Lazuli, but I couldn’t help but notice your skill in dancing. Would you be interested in being the dance captain for our school’s production of Into the Woods?” Awkward, but to the point. I decided that would have to do.

“Well, I guess so? Do I just choreograph and manage everyone?”

“Yes, okay. You are officially named the Dance Captain of Into the Woods, and have quite a bit of authority. Thank you.”

“Okay…?” she trailed off as I finally left.

One down, around seven to go.


	2. The Problems With Assistants

The next day, all continued as regular. I pondered who could go in what leadership positions, but didn’t actually get anything accomplished. I kept up with my classwork as I usually did with only slight distraction, and AP Lit was yet again a competition with Peridot (someone decided that we should be the team leaders for a review game). It ended almost evenly, with Peridot and I against each other in Final Jeopardy (even though we weren’t playing jeopardy). Unsurprisingly, she won.

Afterschool, I headed off to monitor auditions for the musical. I wasn’t in charge of casting, but I had to be there to oversee events and prevent horrible situations in which the actors did…anything I didn’t tell them too. Actors are an interesting and volatile group and should never be left to their own devices. 

The lights suddenly refocused and I braced myself for foul language or a wrench to fall from the cats, but surprisingly, nothing happened.

I made my way to the piece of plywood balanced on the seats that was providing a writing surface for us. I really needed to learn the name for that, but right now, it was going to be called that audition table. I eased myself into the seat to the right of Ms. Universe, and looked over the audition list. It was rather long, more than enough to fill all the roles and ensemble. 

“Pearl, if I could have a moment of your time?”

I nodded, barely looking up.

“Someone came by earlier today and signed up for assistant stage manager. She’ll be a couple minutes late, as she’s also the lighting director and was getting the lights set up for auditions.”

“That’s wonderful,” I replied without thinking. An assistant was sure to help me out, and get this entire operation under control in no time.

The house lights dimmed and the actors chatter quieted considerably. I grinned to myself: these actors were just like parrots, believing it was time to sleep as soon as the lights went out.

I heard the familiar click of the god-mic being switched on, and an all-too-familiar voice rang out over the speaker.

“Actors, auditions are beginning. I expect proper audition etiquette and will not settle for anything less.”

Ms. Universe laughed. “You two may have to work out who’s in charge of what, she’s pretty domineering. In fact, you two are technically co-stage managers.”

The stage lights came on, and I heard the _clunk clunk clunk_ of someone is heavy steel-toed boots coming down the stairs. As I looked over the auditions list, Peridot settled into the seat next to me.

“Hello, assistant stage manager,” I said coldly. 

She smirked. “Actually, I’m glad to inform you that we’re co-stage managing. So you’re not in charge, at least not any more so than I am.”

Ms. Universe looked over at the two of us. “I’m sure you’ll get along wonderfully. Or at least sort out your differences.” She turned away, calling up the first actor.

All throughout auditions, Peridot and I disagreed on nearly everything.

“He was fiddling with the seam of his pants and was stuttering. Points off,” Peridot said, going to mark it on the sheet.

I stopped her. “Actually, I think he was great, even if he was a little nervous. It happens to even the best of us, doesn’t it?”

“Not to me.”

“Well, did I ever say you were included in the best of us?”

She muttered something under her breath and added a few points to his audition slip.

After a solid two hours of disagreement, auditions were over. 

“I think you’ll be glad to know that we have a few more positions filled,” Peridot said, handing me a (surprisingly well-organized) list of names.

“What? But how did you get all these people and in such a short amount of time?”

She grinned, glad to have outdone me. “I used the ever-so-convenient callboard. You should try it sometime, using common sense.”

This was the worst possible outcome, but at least she was efficient. She was helpful, and I will say I’m sure she’ll be a great asset to the production. Just not to my personal state of mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, everyone's last names are mineral/gem based. No, I was not creative enough to get anything more. Sorry, but not really.


End file.
